City New Orleans lyrics

The City of New Orleans
from the Steve Goodman LP `Steve Goodman`


The City of New Orleans.

Ridin` on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin` rail;
Fourteen cars and fourteen restless riders,
Three conductors, twenty five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound odyssey, the train rolls out of Kankakee
Ridin` past the houses, farms and fields,
Passin` trains that have no names, freight yards full of old black men,
The graveyards of the rusted automobiles.

Good mornin` America, how are you?
Say, don`t you know me? I`m your native son.
I`m the train they call the City of New Orleans.
I`ll be gone five hundred miles `fore the day is done.


Dealin` card games with the old men in the club car,
Penny a point, ain`t no-one keepin` score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
Feel the wheels a-rumblin` `neath the floor.
And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their fathers` magic carpet made of steel;
Mothers with their babes asleep, rockin` to the gentle beat,
And the rythm of the rails is all they feel.

Good day, America, how are you?
Say, don`t you know me? I`m your native son.
I`m the train they call the City of New Orleans.
I`ll be gone five hundred miles `fore the day is done.


Nighttime on the City of New Orleans,
Changin` cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Halfway home, we`ll be there `fore mornin`,
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin` down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream,
And the steel wheels still ain`t heard the news,
The conductor sings his songs again, the passengers will please refrain,
This train`s got the disappearin` railroad blues.

Good night, America, how are you?
Say, don`t you know me? I`m your native son.
I`m the train they call the City of New Orleans.
I`ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
I`ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.


Transcribed by Desmond P. O`Donoghue, 8614903@ul.ie
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